


Not a Reunion

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Wiseguy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 18:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Vince isn't abducted by a death squad, and life goes on.





	Not a Reunion

"You still think about him, don't you?" Frank asked.

"You still think about Jenny," Vinnie countered.

"Not the same," Frank said, and Vinnie didn't argue, but Frank knew he could. Then again, Vinnie could always argue just about anything; he had a naturally combative streak. "You want to know a secret?"

"Always. You want another beer before you tell me?"

"It's not that kind of secret, but yeah."

Vinnie got up, taking his warmth with him, but he was back in a few minutes with two more beers, snuggled up against Frank on the sofa. "So tell me a secret."

"I don't like fish."

Vinnie laughed, choking on his beer. "Jesus, Frank, you trying to kill me here? What kind of secret is that?"

Frank shrugged, took a sip of his beer. "I thought you should know."

"You mean because we spent the whole day standing in ice cold water catching them so we could have them for dinner? And you decided to tell me **after** dinner? So what are fish, your own personal way of atoning for your sins? 'I've been bad today, I'll have fish for supper'?"

"Nothing like that. They're good for you, and I enjoy catching them."

"Which doesn't mean you have to eat them."

"You mean catch-and-release?" Frank shook his head. "Goes against all my law enforcement training."

Vinnie laughed again. It was nice to hear Vinnie laugh. It was nice to feel it, too. "No, you don't have to release them. We could take them home."

"As what, pets?"

"Yeah, pets. I want a pet trout in my bathtub. No, see, they have these things called freezers, you can put food in and it doesn't go bad—"

"So I can keep them in my freezer just waiting for the day when I start liking fish? Vince, I haven't liked it since I was a kid and had to have it every Friday for lunch and dinner, I don't think that day's going to come." And realization dawned. "Oh. You mean I could give them to you."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you out here because you're my friend."

"And because you love trout."

"Yeah, as food, not as pets."

The fire was getting low. One of them was going to have to get up to get more wood, and Vince had just gotten up for the beer, so it was a pretty good guess which one of them it was going to be. Frank wondered what time it was, but he didn't care enough to look over his shoulder at the clock. He was genuinely sorry Dan hadn't been able to make this trip with them, but right now he was glad to be there alone with Vince, just looking at the fire.

"Yeah, I still think about Sonny," Vinnie said. "But I don't know why you brought him up, since I know he's about the last person you want to talk about."

"It's not about him, Vince, it's about you. I worry about you."

"Why? The nightmares stopped a long time ago. For a washed up federal employee, I'm doing OK. I date, I travel, when I feel like it I do a little work in the garage. If you're looking for someone to worry about, just turn on the TV, they'll offer you a big selection of starving orphans for twenty-five cents a day."

"I don't know the starving orphans, and I already send them money. I worry about you because you're my friend."

Vince sighed. "I'm OK, Frank. And you know something?"

"What?"

"I worry about you, too. You've been divorced a lot of years now. You should be with someone."

"You got any candidates?"

"Not right off the top of my head, but if you want me to dig someone up—"

"No, thanks, I draw the line at dead." And Vince laughed again. "There's nothing to worry about, Vince. I've got you, don't I?"

"Yeah, you've got me."

"Then I'm fine."

"Well," Vince kissed the top of his head, "so am I."

*

"Have you talked to Lococco?"

Instead of taking the clean-but-wet plate out of his hand, Vince just leaned against the kitchen counter, looking at Frank

Frank returned his look with a very bland one of his own. "Did you not understand the question?"

"No, not since the funeral. Did he call you?"

"No, he didn't call me." It didn't count as a lie when the other person knew you were lying, right? "You know, this whole dish washing process is going to take a lot longer if I have to stand here and hold each dish until it's dry." He shoved the plate into Vince's hands.

"What did he say?"

"He's worried about you. He'd like to hear from you."

"When did you become Roger's advocate?"

"I couldn't care less about Roger, it's you I worry about."

"Didn't we have his conversation last night? You don't have to worry about me. Oh, and Frank?" When Frank looked at him, Vinnie smiled. "This whole dish washing process is going to take a lot longer if you just stand there with your hands in the water and don't actually wash anything for me to dry."

Frank gave him a look, found a soaked-clean fork, and began scrubbing it. "He's your friend—"

"That's right, he's **my** friend, it's **my** business. He shouldn't have called you."

Frank hated being in the middle of this, and he didn't like Lococco, but this was Vince, and Vince mattered. "If he calls me again, I'll tell him that."

"Thanks." They kept washing dishes in silence while Vince stewed and Frank listened to the silence that was Vince stewing. "I wish he hadn't even come to the funeral. It just made it harder."

"I imagine he was trying to be there for you. Was anybody else there?" Vince had told him nothing about Susan Profitt's funeral, except that he'd been to it, and that only a month after the fact. Frank had already heard from Roger, already knew Susan had killed herself using a stolen syringe. Vince hadn't told him that at all.

"No." They had finished with the dishes and Frank was scouring the sink, Vince watching him with undo fascination. "Why are we talking about this?"

"As I believe I might have said before, I worry about you." 

"Would it do any good to tell you to stop?"

Frank shook his head, rinsing the soap suds out of the sink. "No, I don't think it would. Would it help you to tell me why you're mad at Roger?"

"I'm not mad at Roger—is that what he told you?"

"What he told me was that you gave him back the rest of that money you didn't have."

"Don't play me, Frank. I know Roger didn't say that because I didn't do it, and I know you didn't get it wrong because you don't get things wrong. I didn't give him back the money—what would have been the point of that? I gave away the money. Don't worry, I gave it to some very nice organizations, a bunch of different charities, not enough to any one to make anyone suspicious."

"He didn't say why you did it." Frank was hoping Vince would tell him because he was sure Lococco never would. "But he seemed to think it had something to do with him—"

"Frank, I told you, I'm not mad at Roger, I just don't want to talk to him right now. He knows that, and he knows why, and I really don't want to talk about it, with you or with him. I don't expect to feel this way forever—if he calls again, tell him that and then hang up."

"You could tell him that yourself." Frank wasn't sure why he was interfering—he really didn't like Lococco, and Vince seemed fine, except maybe a little quiet, and he was allowed to be quiet if he wanted to, without being cross-examined, right?

"Didn't I just say I don't feel like talking to him? Frank, just let it alone, all right? We have to drive back in the morning, I don't want to ruin the rest of the weekend talking about Roger."

Frank finished drying his hands, hung up the dishtowel. "All right Vince. Why don't we go out and see if we can catch some trout for you to take home?"

Vince put his arm around Frank. "Aw, you're worrying about me being lonely again."


End file.
